My Anaconda Don't
by sexyconfidentpudge
Summary: Bucky goes to a gay bar and gets more than he bargained for, but it all leads him into the arms of Steve Rogers.


The smell of sweat and booze permeated the darkness and flashing lights of the night club. A flash like lightning illuminated the floor in front of Bucky, revealing a spill of ice cubes and unknown liquid. He sipped his "girl-drink," looking down at the puddle with distaste. He would have to be careful not to step in it.

A group of slightly tipsy young ladies was giggling and pointing at Bucky from across the half-filled dance floor. He made eye contact with one of them and she bit her lip, rubbing her hands suggestively up and down her mostly bare thighs. Tempting, he thought, but not really. Just then, a man about twice Bucky's size stumbled into him, causing Bucky to stumble into the puddle on the dance floor. He felt liquid flood his canvas shoe, cold and certainly sticky.

"Sorry, man!" the large man said, "one too many for me tonight!"

"'S'okay, bro," Bucky replied. He prided himself on being _so_ good-natured.

Good-natured as he was, Bucky grumbled as large-man walked away. With a slight shake of his head, he downed the last of his drink and put the glass on the bar. He'd have to drink far more to become intoxicated, but that wasn't his end-game tonight anyway. Tonight was for fun, not vomiting in the trash at Nicollet Diner.

Bucky was about to step away from the bar when an extremely curvaceous redhead approached. She wore a skin-tight black bodysuit with a big zipper down the front that just begged to be pulled down.

"Buy you a drink?" she asked in a husky, slightly foreign accent. Bucky was, of course, tongue-tied, so all he did was nod and stare. "Two of the usual," she told the bartender, smiling a toothy grin. Bucky, bizarrely, thought she looked like a shark and he felt like her prey.

Soon, the bartender (who was wearing nothing but a harness and a jock strap) presented two shots. They were watermelon pink and smelled like Kool-Aid, and they went down like Kool-Aid, too.

Bucky licked his lips and looked down at his curvy companion. "So what's your name, sweetheart?"

"Natasha, but my friends just call me Tasha."

"And what do your lovers call you?"

The only reply Bucky got from that was a sly grin and a wink. Natasha laid a fifty on the bar and strutted away, leaving Bucky utterly dazed. _What is she?_ he thought.

Thirty minutes later, Bucky found himself out on the dance floor. It had filled up considerably in the past half hour and it felt good to get lost in a crowd of warm bodies moving to the same rhythm. A heavy bass line blared over the sound system and shook his bones, making him feel so alive. Then a hand smacked his ass. It didn't bother him, per se, but it did surprise him that someone would be so bold in a place like this. He turned around to find a short and stocky Latino man grinning up at him. It was a very, very dopey grin. _He must be high as a kite…_

"Uh, hi," Bucky yelled over the music. He had to turn his head down to look the man in the eyes. "I'm Bucky."

"Jimmy," was the shorter man's response.

"Wanna dance?" Bucky asked, always polite. Jimmy just grinned and grabbed Bucky's hips. He began to sway to the music, and Bucky did too. He found that it didn't matter who his partner was when he danced, as long as he was just dancing. It felt good to be touched.

Unfortunately, Bucky has a bad habit. His eyes close when he dances. Depriving himself of sight helps him to become one with the sick beats on the floor, or that's what he thinks.

So Bucky failed to notice that Jimmy was backing him into a corner, and he was completely shocked when his back hit the wall and suddenly there were lips on his and Jimmy's obvious hard-on rubbing against his thigh. He pulled away, spluttering. "Jesus!" he exclaimed, trying to push the smaller man away. It was like no matter how he pushed, Jimmy just stayed suffocatingly close and grinning his ridiculous grin.

Much to his relief, Bucky felt a third hand wrap around his wrist and pull, and a raspy female voice say loud and clear, "he's with us."

Bucky allowed Natasha to pull his body against hers, as he was weak in the knees, and she led them in somewhat of a rhythm to a new song.

"Thank you," Bucky sighed.

"You're welcome. I can't allow that pig to attempt to have sex with any more of my friends."

"He's here a lot?"

"Every weekend. And he always hits on at least one guy or gal in my group."

"Oh…"

"He once attempted to fuck me on the dance floor. No joke."

Well, that's repulsive. "Gross!"

"I know. Imagine the germs."

Bucky felt another body line up against his back and jumped. Natasha put a hand over one of his pecs, and squeezed lightly. She purred into his ear, "don't worry, it's just my boyfriend Clint."

The man behind him, Clint, gave Bucky's ass a small squeeze, and lifted his hands to sign something. Natasha responded in what looked like perfect ASL, and said, "why don't you spend the night at our place, honey?"

"No!" Bucky shouted. "I mean, no thank you. I'd like to stay and dance."

"But Clint and I would take such good care of you...I'd be sure to hit that sweet spot."

Bucky began to sweat (harder), as his two companions nearly forced him toward the exit. The panic must have shown on his face because as they were just about to leave a deep voice called out, "hey, he's with me!"

Once more an unfamiliar hand pulled him away by the wrist, and all he could think was, _what now?_

A tall, shapely figure loomed in front of him, and when he looked up, Bucky saw the blonde-haired, blue-eyed face of an angel looking down at him, a look of concern pasted on his face. Bucky couldn't help but think that this was the most attractive man he'd ever seen, and he couldn't help but trust him.

"Are you ok?" the blonde asked.

Bucky nodded, "yeah, thanks for saving me. They were nice and all but-"

"You don't need to make excuses for them. You didn't consent and they were trying to coerce you. That's just wrong."

"I mean, yeah…what are you, Captain Justice or something?"

"Nah, just Steve." The man cracked the sweetest grin Bucky had ever seen.

"Nice to meet you Steve. I'm Bucky."

"Bucky?"

Bucky sighed. Always with the name. "It's a nickname."

"Oh, ok."

An awkward silence followed, so Bucky scratched the back of his head and looked at his shoes for something to do.

"You're gorgeous," Steve blurted without formality.

"Oh," Bucky laughed, "well, thanks. You're pretty handsome yourself."

Steve's grin slipped. "Oh no...are you not...do you not…"

"Oh! No! I mean, yeah! I do! I'm just hella awkward. Do you wanna dance?"

Steve's smile returned, brighter than Christmas, as he took Bucky's proffered hand and followed him to the dance floor. For a few songs they had minimal contact. A touch on the hip here, a touch on the shoulder there, but as it got later, the two men got closer. Suddenly they were moving together seamlessly as one, and the whole club felt hotter for it. A song ended and when the new song came on, the crowd lost its collective shit.

"MY ANACONDA DON'T, MY ANACONDA DON'T, MY ANACONDA DON'T WANT-"

"None unless you got buns hon!" Bucky screamed at the top of his lungs. "Steve I fucking love this song!" And damned if Steve didn't have the best buns Bucky'd ever seen.


End file.
